


Fly and Fall

by maridoll



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, M/M, Olympics AU, crossposted w tumblr, theres a fk at the end but its for like one scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maridoll/pseuds/maridoll
Summary: It's his first olympics, and already he's the rookie upset.It's his first olympics, and at nineteen he's the youngest diver there.It's his first olympics, and he can't help but perform like it's his last.





	Fly and Fall

**Author's Note:**

> (the summary does suck?? sorry. i should plan these things out before, and not rely on making something up on the spot. anyways,)
> 
> This has been a wild journey over the course of two months, now. I was a third of the way through when i injured my wrist working with clay for a class. I couldn't do much for a good few weeks, and then i had to play catchup on my uni course work. Then, the actual olympics came on. After that I had midterms to focus on. Now that all that was behind, I buckled down and finally finished. 
> 
> While eyewearshi is a prominent focus, i do want to point out that it's not the be-all of this story, so if you have no interest in the pair, you can still read the vast majority with little difficulty. 
> 
> F&F is the longest oneshot I've ever written.

He takes a breath to steady himself, face counting down the clock on the screen in front of him, behind the board. Everything feels good. His contacts felt great that day. His center of gravity was nice at his core. And his emotions were steady.

_ Breathe.  _ In and out.  _ You can feel after you win. _

The clock ticked out, a sharp whistle sounded from somewhere below, and he propelled himself off the board, letting his middle bend as he transitioned into the inward three-and-a-half somersault. 

His hands, outstretched, enter the water before his head, now facing the majority of the crowd, no seat left untouched. He lets his red orbs pop close, and then he’s underwater, and the crowd erupts.

Ruby likes to think he did good every time he dives. He likes to think better when his midair form is good. But despite trying for years to listen to the water rising out of the pool, once he’s under, he can’t tell. He doesn’t know. He can think, but until the score comes, it’s never definite.

His head bursts from the water and he takes a couple quick breaths before wandering over to the edge of the pool. One hand goes out to snag his shammy from the water and the other to hoist him from the pool, steady ground firmly meeting his feet.

He faintly hears Wallace calling something out, but he honestly couldn’t be bothered, so he turns and walks back to the side area, slipping deep into a tub and throwing the cool shammy around his neck. 

Ruby sighs in relief at the warmth, and then the grin pops up on his face, and he’s out and trekking back to where the rest of his prelim group is waiting. One of them catches his eye and motions toward the scoreboard, where it was panning out the score of the diver that’d gone after him. In doing so, it also revealed the overall list, and Ruby felt himself stiffen upon seeing his score.

**Ruby Wells. 407C. 96 PTS.**

A hand lightly clasps his shoulder, and he looks over to see one of the older divers from Hungary -What was his name again? Amon? Aron?- smiling down at him. “Good job, kid!”

He steps back to let the hand fall, but returns the easy smile. “Thanks,” he tells him, and then he’s off to go see Wallace before he blows a fuse at being ignored.

 

His next dive he takes fifteen seconds early to set up on, moving to the end of the platform and dropping to his knees. It takes nearly all his time to straighten out into his armstand, but he’s not looking at the clock this time, despite facing it again. He hears the whistle immediately, but he waits a moment, steadies his breathing.

Wallace will kill him for showing this so early on. But he needs it. He needs to see big numbers, almost like it’s his lifeline. 

Every seat is filled in the Tokyo aquatics center. He needs to be remembered. 

With that in mind, he somersaults off the platform and right into a pike, and he can  _ feel _ the excitement when he’s finished, when he’s entering the water and curling into a flip under it, sealing his entry. 

When his head breaks surface, it’s to the roar of the crowd around him. And he lives for it.

He departs from the water quickly, but takes time in wringing out his shammy, in making his way back to the hottub. Halfway there, the scoreboard lights up, and he looks over to see-

Ah. Yes, he will have no trouble passing the preliminaries now.

 

-

He didn’t really know where he was, but he didn’t care.

All he knew was that the couch cushions felt nice, and the mixed concoction in his hand tasted sweet.

He had expected Wallace to get mad. What he hadn’t expected was to nearly be put on  _ lockdown _ , to almost have to find himself a new coach. 

He’d undoubtedly come first that day. And what did he get for it? Nothing good. 

It wasn’t like he could  _ help _ himself, though. And Wallace knew this! He knew this and he’d signed up for it when he became Ruby’s coach, and yet he got so . . so angry, that afternoon. He didn’t understand. Ruby needed to shine. He needed to be in the spotlight. It was a need, an  _ addiction _ , and one he’d fulfilled the first day of ten metre diving at the olympics. 

He was stuck in this tumbling wave of thoughts until another body came and plopped down beside him, making him snap out of it and look up.

A lazy grin was what he was met with. “Yo. You’re that hotshot diver from today, aren’t you?”

Looking up further made him match with the brightest pair of amber eyes he’d ever seen. He blinked, trying to focus on the words. “Maybe.”

The other laughed, leaning back slightly. “No need to be modest. You were the talk of the day. ‘Highest score in an olympic preliminary diving event, ever’. Ring any bells?”

Wallace’s words came swimming back to him.  _ “And you know why that’s not a good thing? Because-” _

No. No, he was over it. Or, he was trying to be. So, he leaned back on the armrest, took a casual sip of his drink, and grinned over at the mysterious stranger. “Is  _ that _ what people are saying?”

The other’s smirk grew wider in turn. “Damn right. You stole the show, kiddo. You wouldn’t believe all the conversation I had to sit through about it. You’re vetted to steal medals from the Chinese, at this point.”

“I-” He pauses, backtracking to an earlier point. “I’m not a kid, I’m nineteen,” he mutters. 

“Hunh?” The other eyes him, tipping his head, wandering down to the drink in his hands. “Still a couple off then, for the States.”

“Well how old are you?” he spits, now thoroughly annoyed.

There was that grin again. “Twenty. Legal here, legal back home.” At another of Ruby’s looks he lets out a loud laugh, waving him off with a free hand. “Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you. It doesn’t make a difference to me. If you can get away with it, hell, go for it.”

That . . was unexpected. And almost unmotivating. Ruby places the drink down on a side table, suddenly feeling more tired than he should. “I actually think I’m done, now.”

The other cocks his head again. “Well, you do still have events tomorrow. Or, I assume?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “And you?”

A crooked smile appears on the other’s face. “Hmm . . let’s say, that’s a surprise. Okay?”

“What?” He puffs out his cheeks, feeling played. “You won’t tell me your event. Even though you seem to know  _ everything _ about me. How’s that fair.”

The other laughs, again. “Life’s not fair, I suppose. But okay, okay, I’ll tell you this.” He jabs a thumb up at his face. “I’m from Mexico. Name’s-”

“Gold!” A voice suddenly cuts out from across the room.

“Ah, that, yeah,” Gold nodded, screwing his face up at the shout. He stands easily, glancing over at the presence making their way toward them. “Gotta go, kid. Or, well . . ya know.” He shrugs. 

Ruby blinks through all of this, not even phased anymore as a taller girl comes to drag Gold away.

“I’ll come see your event, tomorrow!” he calls out, waving goodbye, as he’s swept up into the crowd.

Ruby takes about a minute after to whip out his phone and look him up, because  _ screw that _ , he was not going to sit around and wait to see who this guy was.

It wasn’t fairly difficult. Most people weren’t named from colors, after all, and the only one from Mexico that fit the standard was the one he’d just met.

Huh.

When he said surprise, he wasn’t kidding.

Gold from Mexico was a road cyclist, scheduled for the day-long event on the last day of the games. That was . . interesting.

His phone chimes and he looks to see a message from Wallace. Grimacing, he ignores it to flip his phone off. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

 

-

There was a high roof above his head. 

The venue was nice. Big. Amazing. Still, there was something nice about diving with nothing but the sky above you. Here, there was no natural light. Here, there was no free-flowing water, like in the bay right outside the building.

Sometimes he felt trapped, in these closed-off arenas. Sometimes.

Now, he was at peace. 

Now, he was ten meters up.

Now, as the clock ticked to zero and the whistle sounded below, was the takeoff.

From the middle of the platform, Ruby made a running start, flipped off the edge, and dove for the water below.

A forward three and a half somersaults one twist.

He felt good. His midair form was nice. And this semifinal battle was his.

Then, he straightened out, and his pupils blew.

And he did feel trapped, as the water approached much sooner than he’d anticipated.

Ruby feels his hands collide with the water, but it’s off. His feet are tipping forward, legs no longer aligned.

He dips underwater, does his best to curl backwards to match his new positioning.

But it doesn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest. It doesn’t stop his head from rising from the water and his mouth from gasping for air, forgetting to breathe before going under.

It doesn’t help his scores from being lackluster, the splash on replay as he rises from the pool.

And in this giant venue, surrounded by twenty thousand people, on the biggest stage in the world, he feels so utterly, terribly trapped.

**Ruby Wells. 5172B. 66.45 PTS.**

 

_ You shouldn’t have done that. _

Shut up.

_ One of your highest-scoring dives and you absolutely aced it in the prelims. But now what?  _

You’ll see.

_ You’ll use it again?  _

Yes.

_ Sure, but it won’t be as good. You know yourself. When you’re in a competition, you only give yourself one good shot at a dive. _

. . Yes.

_ The other tries are lackluster.  _

. . I know.

_ You get your one success attempt in and then you  _ fail _ the other times. _

I know!

_ So what do you expect now, at the highest level of competition, when you’ve used up now your second-highest scoring dive? What do you expect to do? Win with the others? _

Maybe!

_ They have to be flawless. You have to lock in what you’ll do for the final, and not touch any of them tomorrow. You can make it through the semis, Ruby. I know you can. Just restrain yourself.  _

Okay.

 

He couldn’t.

It was dive six and he still hadn’t recovered from the first dive. From his over-rotation. 

He pauses on his trek up the platform, looks over to where he knew Wallace would be. Not that he could see much. The platform was in his way. But still. He looks over, pretends they both know he’s making eye contact, and then continues up to the top.

He’d figure out the finals when he got there.

For now, he had to break out a big one to have that chance.

 

He’s about halfway up when something else happens.

Though there are more people than he can possibly imagine crowded inside the arena, there’s this itching on his neck. Like someone is watching him.

Dumb, huh?

Still, he pauses again, briefly, because though his predecessor in the lineup has yet to go, that doesn’t mean he didn’t need every second to prepare himself. 

He pauses and looks out to his right, towards the wide abyss of stands and the mesh of people that filled them. And, immediately, his eyes seek out and find the absolute  _ last _ person he’d thought about that day.

Gold from Mexico was staring back, on his feet, arms crossed over his chest. Beside him sat the blue-haired girl from the night before, sucking on a juice box and eyeing the diver at the front of the podium with disinterest. It was clear who actually wanted to be here.

And, feeling just a tad subconscious, Ruby realizes  _ why _ as well.

It’s him.

He jerks forward and brings his shoulder up to his ears, deciding he’d wasted enough time staring back. By the time he’s at the top, the scores from the previous diver have come in.

It’s his turn now.

 

Under pressure, his 109C was his more reliable dive. It was the one he could successfully pull off a second time in competition with higher than mediocre results. It was his expertise. But.

It was also only a 3.7 on the difficulty scale.

And this time, that wasn’t cutting it.

So he steps up to the edge of the platform, he stands there with his limbs lax, and even with his self-proclaimed declaration earlier, he thinks about the choices he has.

But there really is only one choice. It’s his sixth and final dive for the semifinals, and it has to be a forward dive.

He thinks how much he’s practiced the dive he’s planning on performing, which isn’t much. He thinks about his current ranking, which isn’t good. This could either be his greatest success or his end. The dive that furthers his Tokyo olympic career to the finals, or the one that suddenly and abruptly cuts it short.

Then, he thinks of the stunning golden eyes in the crowd he knows are pinned to him. He remembers the fuss he caused on the first day. He recalls the reputation he now has. He actually looks out in front of him, no longer zoned into his mind, and sees the waves of people before his eyes.

He thinks, well, he could give them a show.

So when the whistle blows, he backpedals to the middle of the platform. He runs, he jumps off, and instead of folding into a neat little tuck position, he kicks his legs out and brings his feet above his head. 

And then proceeds to complete four and a half somersaults.

He curls under the water, sealing his entry, and feels  _ good _ .

He hasn’t felt this good so far in this competition.

When he comes up from the water, he can’t contain his smile. He also can’t look at Wallace, knowing what he’ll find and not wanting anything to ruin this feeling. Ruby swims over to the edge of the pool, picks himself out, and takes a moment to breathe.

That’s when the roar of the crowd hits him, and he gets slightly dizzy coming down from his adrenaline high. He doesn’t know how long since his dive it’s been, but he knows the crowd is still going absolutely nuts.

He turns to the screen, but it’s blank, the scores not up yet.

A quick glance to the panel shows the judges still at work.

Even if he didn’t do as well, with a four-point-one on the degree of difficulty, he’d still get high marks. He was sure. This was his one shot, and he’d done everything he could.

Ruby stands to the side, switches his balance to another foot, glances up at the second-to-last diver approaching the center of the platform, hesitant and still.

He doesn’t look over where he knows Wallace will be, but he doesn’t move, either. 

Then the board lights up in his peripheral, and he whips his head towards the monitor, his score displaying.

His jaw drops.

**Ruby Wells. 109B. 123 PTS.**

That’s . . that was . .

It is still and silent. His brain is thrust into a frenzy, trying to possibly figure out how the score shows so brazenly, how there are six out of seven perfect ten scores, three of them crossed out, and the one nine-point-five also crossed, leaving three tens remaining. 

One hundred and twenty-three points.

And then, like some sort of presage, a single loud yell breaks out from the stands to the right of the platform. As if breaking a spell, absolutely everyone that isn’t a judge or competing diver joins in, leaving the noise deafening.

Ruby ignores it. He’s found the source of the shout that started it all. Standing beside a blue-haired girl in a Thailand jacket, still whooping and shouting his name, was Gold.

 

-

Wallace eventually came and took him aside, made sure he was alright, awoke him from his still shellshock form.  _ I’m not mad _ , he told him. 

_ That was good _ , he told him.

_ You can do your tuck tomorrow,  _ he said.  _ You’re good. _

After waiting beside his coach for the performance and results of the last two, he was pretty much recovered when it was announced that he was leading in first by a full eight points. Wallace told him he could have the rest of the day off, but first he’d have to do a couple interviews. 

“After all, it wouldn’t do to keep the people waiting for a star to speak,” Wallace told him, winking at the end. That pretty much sold him.

“I can’t believe it myself,” he tells a lady from Japan’s local NHK. “I knew Jian Yang had done the dive and gotten the score, but I also know he’s a legend. I’m just . . me.”

“He also only ever got five perfects, even with the final score being the same,” she adds. Then she pokes him in the ribs, making him squeak and her giggle at the response before continuing. “And don’t sell yourself short! You’re the center of the diving world right now, Ruby-san. Everyone has their eyes on you.”

“Well, uh . .” He ruffles his hair with a free hand, barking out a quick laugh. “Thank you! I have my coach to thank for that, for pushing me.”

“Oh! So modest,” says another interviewer, this one from the US. “Though, it isn’t everyday you get such an accomplished olympic diver as Wallace Rallis is as your coach.”

“Definitely. I looked up to him a lot as a kid.”

He was pretty much ready to go, despite seemingly basking in the atmosphere, but another call of his name made him perk up.

“Ruby Wells! Let me get a good look at you, huh?”

“Gabby!” He turns, a huge smile spreading on his face. “I was wondering when I would run into you.”

She shares a look with her cameraman and laughs it off. “I was planning on waiting until you’d won the whole thing, but your little stunt today changed some plans.” She gestures back to Ty and the camera. “Mind if we get a quick word?”

Ruby shrugs. “Might as well pay homage.” He lets the click of the camera light come on before speaking again. “The next time I do will be wearing the flag as I’m handed the gold.”

“Hah! Some high words, to start.”

Gabby leads him through a series of questions, all easy and new and fun to talk about with her, as it always is. When they finish up and Ty lowers the camera, she smacks a hand atop his head, a grin on her face.

“Don’t jinx yourself, kiddo,” she tells him. “Go out there and win for us. For Greece.”

She releases him and he salutes with a nod. “Right.”

As they’re walking away and he’s thinking of where to stop first, a voice interrupts his thoughts.

“You didn’t quite tell the truth, the other night.”

He jumps and spins around, only to find Gold right before him. He continues before Ruby can get a word out.

“Making a fuss of age when you aren’t even from the States,” he prattles. “You didn’t mention you were from Greece! I had to figure that out myself, watching you today. Good job, by the way,” he ends, winking.

Ruby sputters. “Well I–I’m training there. It sucks. I mean-! It doesn’t, it’s actually nice, but the drinking age and the legal age are higher, so that sucks. Uh.”

Gold’s laughing at this point, and Ruby feels his cheeks heat up. Then his eyes pop open and rove over the diver’s figure, and though he’s in a jacket and sweats, he still feels  _ very _ self-conscious, something that hasn’t happened in awhile.

“So,” Gold says, flicking his eyes away. “What you up to now?”

“N-Nothing.” Ruby shifts his stance.

“Great!” Gold grins again and he finds his legs feeling weak, which is  _ not good _ because Wallace would kill him if he was out of form-

“Come with me, then. There’s an event I’ve gotta go see, and I’m not quite done with you yet.”

There’s that blush again, coming back to bite him in the ass. Still, it’s not like he has anything else to do. And he doesn’t mind Gold, not really.

So he says yes.

 

-

This was not what he was expecting.

It’s hot.

Under the circumstances, Ruby guesses he couldn’t expect anything less. In reality, though, he didn’t plan on being under the cloudless sky in the one area of all the olympic venues without any proper shade.

That is, the archery area.

Gold sat beside him, hunched forward with his hands folded before his knees. His eyes were constantly moving in the beginning, but now, he was more relaxed, only occasionally glancing away from the two competing archers. They’d gone through a couple pairs by now, so Ruby was at least somewhat familiar with how it worked. 

What he couldn’t figure out was why Gold had dragged him here, and why he didn’t look the least bit interested.

He snaked his phone out of his pocket to eye the time. Later than he thought. It was around five. 

“How long does this thing go?” he asks. 

“All day, pretty much,” Gold answers back. “Been going since nine.”

“N-” he cuts himself off, but the shock is pure on his face. “Oh.”

Finally showing a little more emotion other than antsiness, Gold grins over at him, folding his hands under his chin. “Surprised? It’s a week-long event, too. They have three full days to cut down competitors to thirty-two and sixteen, and by the end, eight of each gender. It takes some time.”

Polite applause for the pair below erupts around them. Well, on their side. On the other side of the venue, cheers erupt for the woman from Taiwan. 

“I would imagine,” Ruby voices after the noise dies down. Gold leans forward once more, suddenly a bit intense. “Is there anyone you’re here to see in particular? Or are you just an avid archery fan, here to spread your love to-”

“Nah, this is boring as shit,” Gold says, waving him off. His eyes haven’t left the pitch. “Well. There are certain aspects that are exciting, but it’s like that with every sport. Uh.” He ruffles his hair, head dipping down. “I’m here for someone, yeah. He’s actually up next, if the schedule Crys sent was accurate.”

“The woman from Thailand?”

“Yeah!” He looks over, face aglow. “She’s a gold medalist in taekwondo. She could very well kill me if she felt like it.”

“Ah.”  _ Don’t piss her off, then, noted . . _

“She’s cool though. So is- Oh! There he is.”

Ruby glances up at the screen near the south end of the venue. It’s Italy versus Belgium for the final men’s event of the night. Or, day, he supposes. 

He turns to see both competitors and their coaches making their way over to the pitch, but what intrigues him is the Italian coach.

It’s a woman, shorter than the Italian archer but still pretty tall, taller than him for sure. She has the longest brown hair he’s ever seen draped around her form, and in her hand is a megaphone. That was . . odd. 

Setting up before her was the one Gold had probably been talking about, because the board identified him as  _ Silver _ , and that was one hell of a fucking coincidence otherwise. Plus, he was pretty sure ‘Crys’ was short for Crystal, which just made the whole situation equally hilarious and strange. 

That, and the Belgian archer had too much of a background-character vibe.

He was also different. Had long hair of his own, pulled into a high ponytail behind a white visor. It was red, too, vibrantly so. He also was the palest Italian Ruby’d ever seen.

“You’re in for a show, kid.”

He breaks his gaze away to catch Gold’s comment. But he’s still not looking back at him, eyes only for the Italians. Ruby could only turn back and watch as well.

After another few moments, both archers are in their respective squares. 

“Silv will start first, because he has the higher score of the both of them thus far,” Gold supplies. 

Ruby bobes his head. He hadn’t picked up on that. He wonders how good the archer is.

“Korea is the leader in archery, right?”

“Mm.” Gold tips his head. “For women, yes, absolutely. For men, it’s a toss up. Everyone is good. Anyone can rise and be great.” He snaps his fingers and lets the end position be a finger jabbing in Silver’s direction. “Silv is a long-time silver medalist. Ironic, I know. He’s no joke, though. Watch.”

Ruby intends to, after that speal. His eyes are on the Italian as he steps up and raises his bow. Immediately something catches his attention, as the archer sets the bowstring against his upper lip. 

“What’s that on his neck?”

“Hm? Oh, that’s the edge of a shoulder brace. The dumbass had to have rotator cuff surgery from practicing too fucking much.” He shrugs. “That’s about all you can see, with what he’s wearing, but that’s what it is.”

Silver takes a moment to eye the shot, as Gold’s talking. Ruby can imagine the stress on the muscles, and overwork must be an issue. How would you really . . practice, after all? Besides shooting a bunch of arrows all day?

Up on the screen, Ruby sees him take in a sharp inhale and hold it. Then he fires.

“Nine,” A voice announces, echoing through the venue. Immediately Gold is on his feet, hands cupped around his mouth.

“WHAT WAS THAT?! YOU’RE STILL WARMING UP HERE, AT TOKYO?”

Ruby flinches from the volume, then turns to eye Gold mortifyingly, realizing who his words were directed at. He flips his gaze back to Silver, who’s eyeing Gold now with a steep glare. Without a word or any other reaction, he lowers his bow and steps back. 

“Leave,” A staticy voice pipes up, and Ruby looks to see Silver’s coach holding up the megaphone- Ah, okay, that makes sense now. 

Gold resumes a sitting position. “Tch. Never did like Blue all that much.”

The Belgian archer hesitantly steps up after that. Ruby doesn’t blame him.

“Seven!” the announcer called out.

“He’s pretty intimidating, too,” Gold tells him, leaning to the side and into Ruby’s bubble, chin resting sloppily in a hand. “Watch the other archer, and his scores will drop.”

Silver steps up again. This time, the announcer calls out a ten, and Ruby glances at the screen to see the small smirk the redhead is sporting.

Gold jumps up again, to Ruby’s bemusement. Even amidst the cheering, his near-scream stands out. “THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, YOU LOSER!”

Another staredown from team Italy. Another seven for the Belgian. Then, another ten for Silver.

“Six!” the announcer calls. Commotion breaks out around them. That was pretty low, and Gold had said this was the best sixteen, too. When Ruby glances over, he didn’t seem surprised. In fact, a smile was pulling at his lips.

“Is this what you meant?” Ruby asks.

Gold tips his head. “Sorta. Watch the next one.”

Unbelievably for Ruby, Silver gets another ten. Also as a minor shock, the Belgian archer gets the lowest score Ruby’s seen by far.

“Four!”

More commotion in the stands. 

“That’s what I mean,” Gold says. “This is the fourth arrow, too. They usually regain a little confidence for the fifth shot, then tank the sixth one.”

Silver steps up and according to the screen, his next shot is on the border of nine and ten. It’s still called as a ten, but Gold still stands once more.

“ARE YOU LETTING THEM TAKE PITY ON YOU? COME ON, SILV, THAT’S LAME.”

“Blue” looks to Ruby like she’s about to split hairs and punch objects. She stays stationary, though.

“When it’s on the line it goes to the higher point,” Gold informs him. As he does, the other archer steps up, takes a breath, and shoots an eight.

“You’re really into this,” Ruby repeats. “It’s like you have a taste for prediction.”

Gold laughs. “Nah, I’m just used to it.” Then, he pauses. “Well, I’ve tasted him before.” He nods down to Silver as he says this, and a moment later, Ruby’s choking.

Gold turns and bursts out laughing at seeing the red on Ruby’s face. “Surprised? Don’t worry, it was a long time ago. We’re just friends now.”

“R-Right.” Ruby had a feeling he’d never recover from this event.

“Ten!”

“Here it comes.” Gold turns his eyes back to the match. “You’re not wrong, though,” he tells Ruby. “I know Silv’s matches so well because I care to watch them, but I have made a few other predictions come true.”

The archer shoots. The arrow sails to the left, between the two targets.

“Miss.” The announcer calls. “End of round one.”

“Five tens,” Ruby breathes.

“Don’t forget the tanked final shot,” Gold quips.

Ruby looks over. “What other predictions?”

He winks. “Well, I hear a diver from Greece will get gold tomorrow.”

Ruby smiles, but it feels forced. He leans back in his seat, watching as both archers set up for the next round. He doesn’t miss the slumped shoulders of the Belgian archer. “I’m not so sure about that,” he admits.

“Oh? Tell me.”

“I’m uh.” He hesitates, enough time passing for the Belgian to shoot a six and the crowd around them to complain that it wasn’t a score for a top-sixteen archer. Finally, he shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

Gold shrugs. “If you insist. Not like much is going on now, though.”

He smiles. “Actually, I’m  _ interested _ now. I’ll stay and watch this round.”

“Great,” Gold groans. “I’ve corrupted the young to the most boring of sports.”

Silver shoots another four tens and one eight, on which Gold again stood up to scream at. In the end, it wasn’t very close. The Belgian archer shot an eight on arrow six, and then it was Silver’s turn.

The Italian is pushed forward by his coach, a huge grin on her face, and he takes a second to regain balance before taking position. This time, it seems as if everything is frozen. Silver thumbs the string and draws it back. He leans forward and settles the taut bowstring against his lips. He flicks his eyes from the target to the arrow and back. Then, he releases and shoots.

“Ten!”

The crowd erupts and stands, calling out their praise. Ruby stands and claps too, as the announcer calls the end of the match and the victory of Silver. He feels Gold stand beside him, and this time he’s ready, slightly turning to see what would be said.

“YEA! THAT’S THE WAY, SILV! YOU IDIOT, THAT WAS AMAZING!”

He might say that, but Ruby catches his wet eyes, smiling slightly at the emotion. They must’ve been good friends, for him to be showing so much emotion. Or, good exes? Something. It didn’t matter much. 

When Ruby turns back to the field, he sees Silver looking straight at them -or, well, Gold- and though it’s hard to tell with the screen off him, Ruby thinks he might be smiling.

 

-

They exit the venue soon after, Gold now intent on finding some food. Before they can make it far, someone grabs ahold of Gold’s  arm and wrenches him backwards.

Ruby turns in surprise, and he’s still surprised when he sees it’s Blue, the Italian archery coach, now tugging on Gold’s ear and glaring. 

“You!” she snips. “How many times do we have to go through this? You gotta quit it with the screaming, it’s bad publicity on our part!”

“Actually, it’s not.”

Behind her, Silver comes up to the group. “Plus I-Well uh . .” He mutters something and suddenly Blue is whipping around to grab his ear too, both athletes caught in her grasp. 

“Wanna say that again? Huh?”

“Yeah Silv, I didn’t quite hear it actually,” Gold says, grinning.

The redhead blushes from top to bottom at the attention, and then Blue is berating both of them, and Ruby has to hold a hand over his mouth to burst out laughing. 

Unfortunately -fortunately?- the movement catches their attention.

Blue studies him a second, deep-colored orbs on his. Then, she releases the two boys to snap. “Ah! You’re that diver!”

“Uh-”

“Yep! He’s preeeety famous right now,” Gold says, lopping an arm around his shoulders. “This is Ruby Wells. Ruby, meet Blue and Silver.”

“We know,” Silver tells him. “He’s all over the news, remember?”

“It’s actually kinda annoying,” Blue states, crossing her arms. “I mean, there’s lots more to talk about than the diving kid.” She glances back at him. “No offense.”

“Uh, sure?”

“Don’t mind her,” Silver tells him, waving a hand. Blue scoffs but he doesn’t budge.

“You were, uh, pretty amazing,” Ruby tells him, not that his mind can work much faster. He’s still trying to take them both in, and the fact that he could now see why Gold and Silver were a  _ thing _ once was, well, distracting.

The smile this time is sincere and sweet, no bite to it whatsoever. “Thank you,” Silver tells him. 

“You should come eat with us,” Gold offers. “We’ll probably go into the city. No use in not seeing it while we’re here, eh?” He looks back at Ruby to say this, but his gaze is back on Silver so quickly he doesn’t have time to reply.

“I’ll pass,” Silver tells him. “I have a long day tomorrow, and from experience I know you’ll be out late.” Beside him, Blue’s face lights up, as if she’s appreciating his responsibility for the first time.

“Laaame,” Gold sings, shrugging. “Kay, whatever. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I’ll, uh . .” Silver glances away, the red tint returning to his cheeks. “I’ll see you when I win a gold medal.”

Gold loops his arm through one of Ruby’s and smiles. “Yeah, got it.”

They part soon after, Gold dragging him off more like, and it isn’t long before they’re sat down at a moderately-crowded ramen shop. Ruby’s never truly had ramen before, and can’t imagine how bad it was for him, but in that moment he could care less. The food was good, the company even better, and he was embracing it.

Until, that is, Gold pried.

“So. Tell me what’s got you so worked up.”

Ruby tenses, chopsticks still in his bowl. “Oh. Well . . Um, I’m kind of an unusual athlete.”

“How so?” Gold finishes off the food and lifts the bowl a little to sip the soup.

“I can only really do a dive once in competition. All the other times I try it, well, they don’t go well.”

Gold nods, so he continues.

“I’ve worked through it by prepping a large arsenal, so I can have enough dives to go through each stage with only doing them once. The problem with that is knowing when to use the higher scoring dives. I, uh . .” He huffs out a laugh. “I used one of the most difficult ones in the prelims, and another two in the semis. The preliminary one was a mistake, because now I’ll have to do a lower-scoring dive in the finals tomorrow.” His stomach clenches at the thought.  _ Tomorrow. _ It was make or break tomorrow. It was also the end, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that yet.

As if sensing his discomfort, Gold suggested they pay and leave. Once back outside, Ruby feels he can breathe again. It’s easier to continue.

“Before the semis, I locked in my six dives for the finals so I knew not to use any of them. On that last dive, though . .”

“Ah. I remember that one,” Gold nods. “So it was a finals dive?”

“It was a choice of two,” Ruby admits. “But it was higher scoring by far. So now I’m just. Well. I guess I’m worried about my lineup for tomorrow.”

“That makes sense.” Gold nods. “Question, though: When was the last time you tried a dive twice in a competition?”

Ruby blinks. “A while? Um . . maybe, three years?”

Gold smiles, real easy like, not the sharp grin he’s become accustomed to. “You should try it then!” he says. “If it’s been so long, you might be holding yourself back by not. Besides, this is the olympics! You should have fun and experiment a little,” he laughs.

Ruby just blinks again. “But this is the olympics,” he argues. “I can’t just screw up here.”

“Nah.” Gold shrugs. “You’re young! You have time. Live a little. Seriously, though,” he winks. “You should try another dive. Or, the same dive. Hey, y’know what?” He taps his head. “I have another prediction. You’ll try and succeed.”

And just like that, Ruby felt it. He nods, faintly, and straightens out. “Yeah. Yeah! Okay, you’re right.” He clenches his hands to fists, brings them up to look at them. “Yeah, I can do this. I’ve got this.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, and suddenly he’s turned towards Gold, who’s still smiling all easy and the like.

“That’s the spirit. I knew there was something I liked about you,” he croons.

For the first time since coming to Japan, Ruby feels very warm. It’s nice. It’s different than talking to his parents, or hearing praise from Wallace. Ruby’s never had a proper relationship, but he could safely say what he was feeling was probably along the lines of affection.

“Thanks. I-I like you too,” he tells him. 

They continue walking in a content silence, and all too soon, Ruby finds himself in olympic village. Gold releases him from his hold soon after, and Ruby quietly finds himself missing it. 

“Good luck tomorrow,” Gold tells him, standing in front of the younger’s door. “Not that you’ll need it, but, ya know.” He winks. 

“Thanks. And thanks for hanging with me today. I definitely feel easier about tomorrow,” Ruby admits.

“No prob,” Gold shrugs. “I knew we’d click pretty easily, see. But, I’ll admit it’s been a lot smoother than I’d expected.”

Ruby pauses at that, key turned in the door’s slot and unlocked. He thinks he sees a bit of a blush on the other’s face, but in the dim lighting he can’t be sure. All he knows is how much fun he’d had that day, and how he wanted to end with something daring. Call him whatever, maybe it would be a symbolism for his soon-to-be-very daring act come the next day. He felt right about this.

So, with one hand still grasping the door handle, he steps forward and raises up just a tad on his toes to press a chaste, slightly hesitant kiss of Gold’s cheek. 

It doesn’t last long, Ruby leaning back quickly and muttering a goodnight. He lets himself slip inside after, the sight of Gold’s awestruck face right after forever a mystery, an enigma he’d never lay eyes on, a pleasant surprise he didn’t know happened.

But, that was okay. Because no matter the reaction, Ruby knew he’d be there at the ten metre diving finals. 

And for the first time all day, he found he wasn’t worried about the results of said event all that much.

 

-

Gold goes back to his room.

He shuts off the lights, shakes off his shoes, and tosses his body into the bed.

For who knows how long, he lies there, thinking. Contemplating. And, after that doesn’t seem to lead him anywhere, he pulls out his phone and dials an all-too familiar number.

It rings for a bit, the longtone on. He waits. As soon as the ringing breaks, he lets his main thought tumble out.

“I think I’m in love with this kid.”

SIlence, and then, in Silver’s deadpan tone:

“Well, he’s not really a kid though, is he?”

 

-

He takes a deep breath, in and out.

He’s not frazzled, but to say he wasn’t a little nervous would be an understatement. 

There were three repeat dives on his sheet for the ten metre finals.

It had been a giant leap of faith for Wallace. It might’ve been because Ruby was so young, that this was experimentation. But Wallace wasn’t Gold. He knew messing these up and trying something new in doing so wouldn’t be “fun” for Ruby. He knew what Ruby wanted. 

Maybe he had seen himself in the teen. Maybe he saw the determination flare in those dark red eyes, the passion, but also the hopefulness, and the confidence he was trying to exude. Perhaps, he felt that his student could pull it off.

So he okayed the new form. He re-ordered a couple of the dives. And he turned it into the panel without further questions.

Because, if he didn’t have confidence in Ruby, how was the boy supposed to do so himself?

He’s not frazzled, but the anticipation is killing him.

He’d lead in the semis, so today, in the finals, he’s last in the starting order. Eleven other divers to go before him. All those scores to add up, to mess with his head.

But not too much. He’d have to thank Wallace again, for ordering his list. His coach knew what he was doing. Going into the first dive, he could feel at ease. 

“Wallace.” His voice spills into the air, and he turns his body, looking back. His coach perks up, leans forward, attentive. Ruby pauses for a second, really contemplates the words, and the nods once, eyes sharp. 

“Thank you.”

The former competitive diver blinks, expression taking over into one of surprise. “For . . ?”

The next diver is announced. The sixth one, from Italy. 

“Everything,” Ruby tells him. 

Wallace eases up, lets a smile cross his face. “You’re far before your prime, Ruby.” He cocks his head to chuckle a bit. “Stop acting like this is your retirement competition.”

It’s the teen’s turn to be confused. “Wha . . Huh?”

“Oh nothing, nothing.” Wallace waves him off. “It’s just that I said those exact words to Juan, right before I set the record for the inward two-and-a-half pike.”

“And then you quit?”

Wallace’s smile eases, and he shakes his head. “My back was already bad, by then. If I did much more diving, the chances of a full recovery would be narrowed.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t known that. He’d known Wallace had retired early, but never exactly why. It was strange that he didn’t, now that he thought about it. He’d idolized Wallace Rallis as a diver, and even after he’d gone and Ruby had moved on to looking towards others, there had never been any quite like his coach. Maybe he’d assumed it was an age thing? Maybe-

“You should go,” Wallace says, interrupting his thought. Ruby glances back. The ninth diver had just gone. He nods, stands. 

This time, he lets a smile grace his lips when he looks back towards Wallace. “I mean it, though. Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah.” He shoos him. “Now go.”

 

-

In front of him, the frontrunner from China slips from the board into a twist, and from his position Ruby can see him enter fluidly.

He’s walking up from the platform, onto the stairs, and reaches the main platform when the score is called at one-hundred-and-eight points. 

Amidst the roars of the crowd, he stands on the back of the platform and takes in a breath. Then two. After, he shuffles forward a few steps.

The whistle blows.

He takes off running, thrusts his arms behind him, then above his head as his legs push off. His torso is horizontal before he’s grabbed his legs, and he’s looking at the ceiling before they’re pressed to his chest in a tuck.

His first dive was his best dive. The 109C. The forward four-and-a-half. He had mastered it long ago. There were no qualms about this dive. It was fun; it was easy. It wasn’t a repeat, but even if it had been, he would’ve been able to throw everything into it without any ill feelings. 

He’s just about even with the one metre board when he releases his legs and straightens out. When his navel is in the water, he can feel his feet as they’re completely upright, even with the rest of his body. There is no curve to his form as he slides the rest of the way in, and there is barely a pop of the water where his entry seals.

It takes four seconds for his head to pop above the water. Another few to reach the edge of the pool. Before he’s out, his score is in.

**Ruby Wells. 109C. 111 PTS.**

The crowd thunders. He takes a moment more to gaze at the seven tens lined up across the electronic board. Then, in a surge of elate, he grins wildly and pumps a fist into the air.

He only cools down later after the leaderboard has come and gone, and after he’s gone to sit with Wallace.

So far, so good.

 

-

He’s focused. It takes the official on the second platform with him to call his name twice, and after that doesn’t work, to timidly tap on his shoulder.

Blinking out of his trance, he turns to look and gets a gesture to the main platform. There was no one there.

Oh.

Nodding his thanks to the official, he hurries up the stairs and onto it. His ten second countdown starts. 

_ This _ was the part that made him antsy.

A back three-and-a-half pike. From the semis. One-oh-eight possible points. And his first of three repeats for the finals.

He walks to the edge of the platform, turns to face the wall. No matter what he does, he can’t quite calm the racing of his heart. 

_ I have another prediction _ .

I hope you’re right, he thinks.

The whistle blows right as he’s on that thought. He startles, but it’s only the first one, so he has time.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. But his body has moved on its own, and he finds himself in the air quite suddenly.

Breathing out, Ruby rotates and grabs at his legs, curling his arms around the backs and letting them straighten. He’s moved too fast, though, and sharply over-rotates. He clenches his eyes shut, begging his body to calm down as he becomes lightheaded. 

But he can’t recover. When he reaches the one metre board, it’s as if he’s sitting on the ground, torso straight and legs parallel to the water.

He stretches his arms and  _ tries _ his hardest to enter nicely, but his legs fold, and once his torso is in, they spill out from above him, smacking into the water heels first.

He comes up gasping, takes a moment to tread water and regain his breath. His eyes shut briefly, but he wills himself to open them, shakes his head, and swims toward the edge.

It doesn’t take long for his scores to come in. He’s halfway to the tubs, wiping his shammy over his face in hopes it would hide it from the prying cameras. But he does take it down to look at the board.

**Ruby Wells. 207B. 75 PTS.**

He curls his lips around his teeth and bites down, relieving frustration yet not breaking skin. A seven and two six-point-eights. Letting out a breath, he wills himself to relax, slipping into the heated tub and throwing the shammy on top his head.

 

-

He’s behind.

It wasn’t terrible, but he was in fifth. He’d shrugged off talking to anyone, and when he began the walk up the stairs, he let his mind zero in only on his next dive. Slowly, the noise of the crowd died. Slowly, his wayward thoughts left. 

His third dive was his twist. It had a difficulty of three-point-eight. 

He made it to the second platform and actually sat down, only paying attention enough to know the next diver was just now making his way to the main platform. His next exhale slid through his teeth. 

He wasn’t going to waste time thinking about his unsuccessful attempt. He still had two more of those to go, and he needed to have the right mindset in order to pull them off.

Instead, he let himself go lax and checked his body. He’d soaked until it was time to head up. His feet no longer stung. Nothing particularly hurt or felt uncomfortable. He’d recovered from the bad landing, then. Good.

“Ruby-san.”

He stood and nodded his thanks. Maybe. He couldn’t remember nodding. He couldn’t remember walking either. But here he was, in the middle of the platform.

When the whistle blows, Ruby takes a running start and jumps, already completing a somersault before he’s reached the bottom of the platform. He does another, then swings out into a twist. Then a second. On his third, he flips his body head-first, straightened legs against his chest, and performs a half somersault to finish.

He has a good few meters to straighten out, and his entry is good.

His score reflects it, as he’s collecting himself from the water. 

**Ruby Wells. 5156B. 110.20 PTS.**

A nine and a couple nine-point-fives. Good. With 296.2 points, he’s back in first.

 

-

Gold isn’t quiet, but he’s not trying to be eye-catching, either. 

That second dive had been rough, and he could only guess why. The diver had taken his advice. And then it failed, spectacularly. Luckily the high degree of difficulty saved him, but Gold had a feeling there were more to come. 

He wasn’t trying to be a distraction, not now that Ruby needed to concentrate.

When the results come for the end of the third round, he thrusts himself to his feet and applauds as the Greek athlete soars up four places. 

When he’s on the platform again, Gold reads the dive name off the board and sees it was from a previous day as well. As he’d thought.

Clenching a fist into his jacket, he repeated his words from last night, ignoring the look from Crystal beside him.

“You’ll try, and you’ll succeed.”

 

-

He wants to remember those words, but he knows he needs to concentrate. No thought of the Mexican athlete enters his mind. 

It’s an inward three. With a three-point-five degree of difficulty, two years ago it had been on the dive list as a courtesy. Now, he’s one of several to have pulled it off. In the prelims, he’d used it to earn one-oh-one points. Even.

It’s his fourth dive of the day. With his next breath, he lets go of all three of the ones he’d done before. He’d live in the moment. He tightens his face, empties his mind.

_ You can feel after you win. _

He balances on the edge, facing away from the water. When it’s time, he jumps back and up, grabs his legs straight a distance from the board, and spirals downward. He breaks out just a little too soon to straighten, but when his fingertips cut through the water, he lets it go and lets his body curl, legs sealing his entry and only just popping the water’s surface.

**Ruby Wells. 406B. 98 PTS.**

That was fine. He nods to himself. Twenty-eight, from two nine-point-fives and one nine. It wasn’t perfect, but he was feeling for it. His second inward three pike at Tokyo with a three point difference? Yeah, he’d take that.

He slings his shammy over his shoulder and goes to seek out the hot tubs.

 

-

He was just above 390 points, overall. This next one would finally push him over to the next hundred, so the first of three digits matched his attempted dives.

The reverse four had been on the dive list for forever, due to the physics that explained it possible. Ruby had been eighteen when he learned it for the 2020 worlds. It had been a long, strenuous journey. When he unveiled it, he didn’t earn any higher than one-oh-nine points. Still, it was the dive that won him gold.

Well, he’d had time to practice since then. And lucky for him, no one else had attempted it since.

He’d be breaking his own record.

Doing it off a platform was different from off a springboard. Harder. But, he was also higher. 

He starts a little less than halfway. In excitement, it was possible that he might’ve started moving  _ just _ as the whistle started to blow, but it was a short sound, so he was in no danger of being called out for an early start.

He jumps from a couple feet and lands again on the edge, springing up and quickly into a tuck.

When he’s through one and a half somersaults, he’s gazing at the ceiling, and his bangs slap against the platform.

_ Shit _ .

His eyes blow big, and he tenses on instinct, not losing form, but letting his eyes linger upward as he propels his toes away from the platform, not wanting them to suffer the same fate and clip his dive. He spirals into his third somersault, enters into his fourth, and halfway, lets his arms fall away from his legs.

His hands fly down below his head due to gravity, and he locks his fingers together this time, palms facing the water. He lets his thumbs hang loose and tips his interlocked hands so that they enter the water first, the rest of his fingers following at a slant. 

The entrance is solid. He exits the pool feeling good, shammy slung around his neck. And then he waits. And waits.

After a time he glances over to where Wallace was. His coach shrugs, not knowing either. Ruby considers heading over, but then his name is called out, and he whips his head towards the board.

Oh.

**Ruby Wells. 308C. 125 PTS.**

_ Oh. _

He does a mental calculation. He’d barely saved with the tens, but it still wasn’t adding up. He’s about to look away, to turn to the judge panel, when another box pops up on the screen.

**+2 PTS.**

Plus two? From . . 

_ Ohh. _

He brings a hand up to his bangs. His close call. He’d been near enough to the platform to earn the plus two. That was. Uh.

He drops his arm, shakes his head. He’d take it, but it was  _ not _ happening again if he could help it. That was a nightmare scenario waiting to happen, and he suppresses a shudder as he looks down to his feet, not wanting to ever imagine what they’d look like with the nails slapped off, or  _ worse _ .

He doesn’t realize how ecstatic the crowd is until he looks back up and genuinely  _ hears _ them again. The atmosphere is fire. The new leaderboard comes in. He has  _ five-hundred-and-nineteen points. _

He can’t help it, his head whips around to Wallace. Letting out a breath, he heads over, suddenly too light on his feet.

 

-

He’s marching up the last set of steps when he gets a feeling. Stopping, he glances to see the scoreboard isn’t ready, and then looks . . beneath, into the sea of people.

His eyes land on Gold and Crystal almost comically fast, like fate. He blinks. They’re both staring straight at him. He blinks again. Soon, Gold stands, and his heart . . flutters. 

And he snaps himself out of it as Gold makes a shoving motion toward the platform. Letting out a stuttering breath, he nods and turns to finish his ascent. He’d . . think about that later.

Ruby halts once he’s reached the main platform, gazing over at the scoreboard that’s just lit up.

The Chinese diver who’s been his second now has 626.7 points. He lets the thought sink in. That was . . high. Dangerously high. He swallows.

This last dive had been his mistake in the prelims. His armstand dive. Back, with two somersaults and two and a half twists. It was free, and it was three-point-six on the difficulty scale. Worth a max of one-oh-eight points. 

He’d earned one-oh-five in the prelims.

His feet land on the platform. His mind flashes back to Gold, and then he’s letting himself finally remember the words promised to him.

_ I have another prediction _ .

His eyes slide shut as he settles himself. He could do this. Each time he’d gotten better with the repeats. He’d just set a new record for his last dive! What’s more, it was pretty much untouchable, unless another diver came into close encounters like he’d done.

Today was  _ his _ . His alone. And he was going to pull this off.

_ You’ll try and succeed. _

He steps forward and lets his feet carry him to the edge. His shammy comes off his shoulder and gets tossed down to the water below, to the side of the platform. With his feet on the edge, he bends over and extends his arms. With another moment, he’s propelling his legs into the air, to the side and then straightening out above him. His eyes face the water, but he can’t look down. 

When the whistle blows, he lets himself tip forward. About halfway, he pushes off with his arms and lets his body straighten out, head facing the scoreboard to the side.

He needed one-oh-eight to place first. A perfect score to win.

His arms go to grab the back of his head and wrap around his navel as he spins into his first twist. He’s upside down when he spins into his second. He’s near the three metre platform when he comes out of his last half, now upright with his somersaults completed.

All that’s left is to lurch forward, to straighten out, to fling his arms before his head and lock his fingers. When they hit the water, create the slip for his head to bob into, he’s facing away from the crowd, back towards the platforms. But in that moment, as he brings his legs back from in front of his form, he could hear them. Frantically. Screeching. Going absolutely wild. 

It’s the first time he’s ever been able to.

His head dips under and his legs tip back as his torso slides forward once over, curling his figure into the water and sealing his entry.

He won’t know about the splash until he sees the scores or a replay.

He never knows.

But he does know that when his head surfaces, there’s a commotion. And he doesn’t think it’s for him. 

He swims to the edge, takes his time. His breath is harried, slightly. He’s nervous. He’s fucking scared.

He’s standing on the edge of the pool when his scores come in, and he drops his shammy in his hurry to make them out.

And . .

He draws in a breath.

**Ruby Wells. 6245D. 107 PTS.**

_ Damnit. _

He blinks, red orbs expanding then contracting very quickly upon the realization. He feels himself sink to the ground. 

His legs curl to his chest. He weakly exhales. His hands come to grip his shins, blunt nails burying into the skin.

“ _ Ruby Wells finishes with a final score of six-hundred-and-twenty-six-point-two- _ ”

He presses his head to his knees, tuning the rest of it out entirely. No.

No.  _ No. _

_ No! _

_ Damnit! Fucking no! _

His next inhale is shuddering, frustrated. He can feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

He’d done it. He’d completed a dive for the second time in competition outstandingly, earning higher marks than he’d done on his first attempt. 

But it hadn’t been enough.

Suddenly he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t care what anyone thought, either. He’d let Wallace blame it on him being a bratty, fucking snob kid. So he uncurled his legs, thrust his head up along with them, and  _ slammed _ his feet into the water in front of him.

By the time they slowly sunk to the edge, every breath was shuddering. His hands were fisted against the concrete. A hand lands on his shoulder.

He turns his head away, knowing who it was. “Sorry,” he breathes out, trying to control himself.

The land leaves his shoulder and comes to grip his face. He’s jerked sharply to face Wallace, looking at him with a stern expression.

“The fuck’s gotten into you?”

He feels the tears gather again. “I-I didn’t-”

Wallace shakes his head, shuts Ruby up. “So what? It’s not like you’re done yet.”

“I-huh?” He blinks, trying to process the words. In the seconds it takes him to wonder if perhaps Wallace was referring to his career, his coach is thoroughly shocked. 

“My God. Don’t tell me you didn’t fucking-” He sighs, then  _ jerks _ Ruby’s head towards the leaderboard. He winces, knowing what to expect . .

Wait.

His jaw drops.

“I-I’m first?!”

“ _ Tied _ for first,” Wallace corrects. “I can’t believe you didn’t look at the board, what did you  _ think _ was going to-”

“But!” He chokes on the word, takes a moment to regain himself. “But he had point seven! How-?”

“No, you  _ idiot _ , he had point two.” Wallace’s eyes narrow. “You both have point two. Are your contacts bothering you? You gotta fix them, then, you’re not done yet.”

“A tiebreaker,” Ruby breathes.

Wallace releases him and stands from his crouch, offering a hand. Ruby takes it and lets himself be pulled up, still shaken.

“Yes. So pull yourself together. Also-” He looks away. “Prepare yourself. We have two minutes to decide, and you don’t have anything left to avoid repeating.

Ruby feels himself slipping, but carefully untangles his hand from Wallace to stand on his own. “O-Okay.” He nods. Then he lets the words sink in, and the panic lurking on the edge of his mind threatens to spill in.

 

-

“So what happens now?” Crys asks, leaning forward in her seat. She had to wait a moment, Gold was still fixed on Ruby and his coach, but once they were both up and walking off, he’d calmed down enough to consider the question.

In contrast to her, he leans back, slouching in his seat. “Beats me. I’m new to all this. I don’t think they can both be first, though.”

“So some sort of tiebreaker,” Crystal concludes. “Maybe it’s based on the highest of the past rounds?”

She’s answered moments later, when an overhead voice explains they’d both do single dives until the higher scoring placed them into first and second place.

With a sigh, she too leans back into her seat.

“We better not miss Silver over this.”

 

-

“Give me my highest scoring dives.”

Wallace nods, jots them down in reverse order. The 109B and 308C. Both 4.1 DDs. “Last?” He asks, turning to look at Ruby.

He hums, thinking. But really, if it came down to a third, there was no other choice. Though it was far from high scoring, with that amount of pressure, it would be his only option. “One-oh-nine c,” he tells him. Wallace nods again, jots it down, then pockets the pen. 

“You’re sure about these?”

Ruby glances at the list. “Yes.” He bobs his head, a sudden rush of adrenaline filling him. “I got this,” he tells himself.

Wallace, smiling, claps him on the shoulder. “You do. I’ll be back.”

As his coach moves to pass the list of dives on to the panel, Ruby drops into a chair. He was second, since he just technically went. Though it’d been a few minutes, by now.

He pops his head up from his lap, gazing across the water and into the far section of stands. He was too far away to make out anyone, so he just waved lightly in the general direction he remembered spying the two of them earlier. The crowd bubbled in reply, so he’d attracted some attention nonetheless.

_ I’m trusting you again _ , he thinks.  _ I need these repeats to work out. Again. Please. _

“How’s your vision?” Wallace asks, coming up to sit beside him. Ruby shakes his head.

“Fine.”

The edges of his coach’s lips quirk up. “Still can’t believe you mistook a seven for a two.”

“I-!” He pauses, huffs, quiets his voice. “Well, it’s possible I could’ve been psyching myself out. It’s no fun to end on a chance dive.”

“You made it, though.” Wallace nudges him, and he snickers in return. “That was a nice dive, that last one.” He leans back. “Now you just have to do it again.”

“Yea . .” He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

The Chinese diver is called forward. Ruby takes in a breath and stands. 

This all ended soon. No matter the outcome.

 

-

His opponent’s dive difficulty is also four-point-one. He lets out a sigh. Should’ve expected as much.

Looks like 120.95 points was the mark to beat. Ruby does a quick mental calculation as he’s heading up to the platform from the half mark. That was nearly a couple off. But . . he’d be doing four and a half somersaults in this first dive to beat it.

He shakes his head. No room for doubt.

It was now or never.

Taking off in a gigantic leap forward, and finishing with a curl towards the center of the pool, he thinks he’s done quite well. He only hopes it’s enough.

Wallace is by the pool edge when he exits the water, wiping his shammy over his face before squeezing it out. The screen lights up and they turn to look.

The unthinkable happens.

**Ruby Wells. 109B. 120.95 PTS.**

Ruby moves closer as the crowd roars to avoid shouting. “That’s . . not bad?”

“You didn’t spectacularly fair!” Wallace jokes, hands on his hips. Ruby frowns and mimes a gut jab. 

“Did you see his sheet, by chance?”

“ _ No,  _ Ruby. And we don’t  _ cheat _ anyway.”

He turns his head. “Isn’t cheating if you can’t do anything about it.”

“I did hear that, you know.”

Ruby shakes his head. “Okay. Dive two.”

 

-

_ Again _ with the same  _ fucking _ degree of difficulty. He was on the reverse four, too. Not only was it a repeat, but he’d just made a  _ record _ for it that  _ day _ . He groans, but luckily there’s not an official on the second platform this time to hear him. 

118.90 points. Okay. Alright.

He hikes up and takes a moment to steady himself by wiping his hands on his shammy, throwing it over the edge.

His entrance is off. So, surprise surprise.

**Ruby Wells. 308C. 118.90 PTS.**

“This cannot be happening,” he deadpanes to Wallace. His coach only shrugs.

“It’s the first I’ve seen of it either. But hey, think of the stories, mm?”

He scoffs. “I’d much rather be done.”

 

-

He’s fine resting on the second platform until the screen reveals the dive.

It’s a 5257C. For one-seventeen points.

He tenses. And then suddenly he’s back to the semis. 

_ With the cold, dark ceiling above his head.  _ No natural sunlight. 

_ With the crowds chanting for the Chinese favorite, not for the rookie Greek upset. _ No natural breeze.

_ With the calm, filtered, distilled water. _ With no churning friction, nothing to catch him should he fail.

His hands slip out from their lock and enter the water separate. The splash is big.

**111 PTS.**

He walks up the steps, stiff. Trapped.

“ _ . . Currently has nine-hundred-and-seventy-seven-point-oh-five points-” _

Great. Spectacular. These were officially the highest total scoring dives  _ ever _ , in any competition  _ ever _ . As if he didn’t need anything else to add to-

To the what?

And then, he  _ snaps _ out of it.

“I don’t need a fucking net,” he mutters to himself. “This is  _ my _ dive.” He straightens, hears the whistle blow, and sprints to the base of the platform. When he jumps off, he feels his lips pull into a grin.

There was nothing wrong with going into a second sheet.

**Ruby Wells. 109C. 111 PTS.**

“- _ Wells currently also has nine-hundred-and-seventy-seven-point-oh-five points.” _

He catches the last of the announcer and nods to himself before moving back towards Wallace, who’s retreated to the judging panel once more.

He returns with a sigh and another three-list sheet. 

“Damn, kiddo,” he murmurs. “That last was lucky.”

“Not on my part,” Ruby mutters.

Wallace shakes his head. “Of course not. I meant, it was lucky he slipped on the entry.” He winces, glances at their competitor briefly. “Must’ve taken a toll on his wrists. Getting them re-wrapped out.”

Ruby stares. “Are you telling me this won’t be fair now?”

“No.” Wallace huffs. “That’s why they’re binding them again. Enough of this. What’re your next three? Not that I hope it goes long,  _ God _ forbid-”

“The four-oh-seven b.”

Wallace stares, then clicks his pen. “You’re risking yourself there.”

“For the second,” Ruby elaborates. He waits until Wallace has it penned in before continuing. “Two-oh-eight c for the first.” Wallace nods, writes it in. “One-oh-eight c for the last.”

“Okay.” Wallace scans it, looks back up. “The back four up first is okay?” At Ruby’s affirmative he stands. “And you sure you want the forward four last?” 

“I have a feeling,” Ruby tells him. “That it won’t come to that.”

“I’ll be back, then.”

 

-

“How is this still  _ fucking _ going on?” Crystal crosses her arms, glares at the water. 

“It is pretty amazing,” Gold echoes. “You think they’ll go through all the next three?”

“You better  _ hope _ not,” Crys growls. “Jesus. How long have we  _ been _ here?”

“Oh, you love it,” Gold teases. “Anyway, I have a feeling it’ll end soon. Then we can head over.”

“Blue says they’re down to the wire. If we  _ miss him _ because of your stupid  _ infatuation _ -”

“Whoa whoa-” Gold throws his hands up. “A, we will not, don’t  _ worry _ so much, I wanna see it as much as you. Second-”

“Don’t try and argue that last point,” Crys mutters, snapping a picture while she had her phone open. She turns it around to show him. “You’re blushing.”

 

-

“- _ Currently has a total of one-thousand-and-eighty-six-point-oh-five points. _ ”

The roof is figuratively opened, barred to the sunlight. He is free.

He is free.

He is able.

The whistle blows. He wipes away his expression, his feelings, and focuses.

_ You can feel, well . . you know the drill. _

He turns away from the crowds, tunes them out near completely. Then?

He leaps.

And spins.

And triumphs.

He breaks the water’s surface and surges an arm forward, pumping a fist into the air not unlike the reaction to his first dive of the day. That was good. He’d felt that it was good. 

Once he was back on the concrete, shammy wrung out and over a shoulder, he felt even better.

And then he knew, somehow.

So when the screen lit up, when they announced his total and he looked towards the leaderboard, he could only feel supreme happiness, no room for bewilderment or any of the sort.

 

  1. **Ruby Wells 1088.05 PTS.**



 

Well, of course, that didn’t stop everyone else from reacting.

Like Wallace, who’d been making his way toward him but now carefully  _ sprinted _ and nearly knocked them both off their feet with his force. He was smiling and Ruby was laughing, and then the tears started to pour down.

The audience caught on, and surely some part of the outcry had to be out of relief that they could  _ leave _ now. But the rest?

The rest was for the nineteen-year-old boy wonder with the gold around his neck.

Ruby grins, bites the edge of the medal, and leans forward on the podium, winking into the cameras. His jacket is slightly zipped, thrown on hastily. The bright blue and white went nicely with the flag he was handed next with a cry of joy. He throws it over his shoulders, wears it like a cape, and lets the medal fall down to his chest as Greece’s anthem plays.

He’s  _ euphoric _ . 

No. That’s an understatement.

 

-

He talks with Gabby and Ty again, who are equally ecstatic for him. Not that he’s calmed down any.

About a half hour later he remembers to calm down enough to grab his bag and throw on his sweats. His phone chimed with an unfamiliar number, and he opens it to gaze at the picture sent in wonder.

It’s Gold and Crystal, now situated at the archery fields. She’s holding up a finger that he thinks represents ‘first’, and Gold is all grins. It takes a second before he realizes it’s actually a video, and scrambles to press play.

“Hey loser,” Gold voices. “Congrats on that win. We had to scram, but you should come meet us. You’ll know where we are.” He beckons a hand forward, as if Ruby could step through the screen. He sort of wants to, but the video ends soon after that, and he’s in a rush to leave the wait room, bumping into Wallace on the way out.

“Got somewhere to be?”

“Archery,” he breathes out. “If that’s okay?”

Wallace shrugs. “Yeah, sure. I’ve already got calls coming in, just so you’re aware. You’ll probably be back in Athens in the next couple days.”

He nods, thoughts a blur. “That-that’s fine. Just text me. I’ll get the plane ticket tonight.” The archery field was across the way from the aquatics centre, but he could probably jog along the bay and make it there reasonably. 

“Hey, Ruby.” He turns sharply as Wallace calls out, throwing his head over his shoulder.

Wallace just smiles at him. “Good job out there.

 

-

Gold is antsy.

The wind is stronger than yesterday, and the previous day after. There are clouds in the sky, though not enough to inhibit the brightness.

It’s the finals, now. Beside him, Crys is gripping the edge of the stands, hunched forward.

Silver’s down there. With him is the archer from Taiwan who’d made a clean sweep of the olympic rounds prior. According to Crys, he’d also been the world champion the year before. He was vetted to win worlds again later that year, in October. 

He was shaking Silver’s hand, speaking a few words as everything was set up around them, and commercials were still running. Gold didn’t think Silver looked nervous. But was he feeling it? Yes, probably.

When the time comes, and they’re calling out the names of the final two in the men’s individual, Gold politely claps. Crys had pulled him into a chokehold earlier, threatened to beat his ass if he caused a commotion this time.

But, he knew.

This was serious, and unlike rounds previous, Silver needed all the concentration in this final. 

_ “I have eleven silver medals.” That’s what he’d told him, years prior. “Eleven silver, but no gold.” _

_ He smirks, trying to lighten the mood. “You have me?” _

_ He’d been glared at, the redhead nearly spitting. “That’s not the fucking same.” He presses hands to his temples, rubs them. His breaths are deep, yet they come out shaky. “I can’t keep coming in second.” His hands drop, hanging limply at his side. “I won’t know what to do with myself.” _

That had been before his injury, before his surgery. Before his recuperation, before their break up. 

He’d certainly grown stronger, mentally. As for his willpower?

Well . .

_ “I can’t keep this up, Crys,” he hears him say to their mutual friend in passing. They’d found a corner to huddle up in after the opening ceremony, to escape the noise and talk without going back to their rooms.  _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “I mean-” He breaks off, lips pursed, and stays silent for a few moments. “It doesn’t matter if I’m one of the most decorated modern archers. If I can’t get a gold medal, then there’s no point anymore.” _

_ “So you’ll quit?” _

_ “I love this sport,” Silver says instead. “It’s my life. But-If I can’t do it this time . .” He shakes his head. _

_ “I don’t know.” _

Crys pokes him in the ribs, snaps him from his recollections. With a grunt, he looks up to see Silv’s opponent shoot a ten.

The redhead uses up all twenty seconds to shoot. It’s on the line, called a ten.

Another ten for Taiwan, easy.

Again, he uses all his time. He’s concentrated. He’s calculating. He’d gotten used to the wind for today long ago, so anything else would only be his error.

He fires. It’s called at a nine.

Silver lets his bow recurve, steps back, expression tense. He couldn’t get behind. He had to get it  _ back _ .

“Eight!”

Gold breathes a sigh of relief as the consecutive for Taiwan lights up at a twenty-eight. Crystal turns to grab his arm, but he’s accustomed to it. They both watch as Silver steps up again.

He shoots another nine.

The round ends in a tie, each archer awarded a point.

 

-

Ruby slides into the stands before the start of the third, eyeing the screen briefly before seeking out Gold and Crystal.

It doesn’t take that long to spot them and head over, and he raises a hand to garner their attention. Gold slides over and he takes a seat beside him, nodding to the screen. “How is it three to one?”

“Tie in the first,” Crystal tells him. “They split the points.”

Ah. “Right, thanks.”

Gold smiles over at him. “That medal suits you.”

Oh. He’d forgotten he still had it on. “Thanks.”

“Knew you could do it.”

He smile freezes, and he can feel his cheeks heating up. “Yeah. Guess I could.”

“Gold,” Crystal utters, and both of them turn back towards the match to see Silver hit a ten.

The archer from Taiwan follows with the same, and as the round plays out, it becomes a mirror of the first.

Silver’s next arrow is an eight. He’s fighting, he’s trying to hold on. His opponent hits a nine.

He comes back to score a ten, and another nine for the other.

Applause breaks out around them. Another tie.

“Four to two,” Gold murmurs. 

Silver takes a breath to steady himself. Blue taps him in the back, hands him his next three arrows. He nods his thanks, sets them in the quiver at his side. 

“I’m not done yet,” he breathes out. 

He’s up first and wastes no time in setting up and calming the fuck down. He thumbs the string, brings it up to press against his lips, eyeing the path.

It’s clean.

“Ten!”

Also a ten for his opponent, Silver shakes it off and steps up again.

He fires, but the recurve of the bow hits his visor, lopsiding it. With a grunt of surprise, he straightens it, the announcer letting him know his score.

“Ten!”

A nine, for the other. Close, but definitely a nine.

Okay. This was it.

He steps forward once more, visor fixed, last arrow equipped. He pulls the string back and exhales.

Then he fires.

“Ten!”

His eyes widen. A thirty, for that round. It takes him another moment before he can step back, and the other archer hits a second nine.

Beside Ruby, Gold thrusts his arms in the air. Otherwise, he’s relatively silent. 

“Ruby.” He turns to look back at Crystal, an eased smile now on her face. She’s leaning forward, a little into Gold’s space. “You apparently know of me, but we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Crystal. I’m a taekwondo specialist from Thailand.”

“Nice to meet you.” He leans forward to shake her offered hand. “Ruby Wells, Greek diver.”

“Hm.” Her lips quirk up. “I’ve been to your past couple events. If I didn’t know what you were here for by now, it’d be kind of shallow on my part.”

“Ah, right.” He glances away, back to the field. They were on a short break for the fifth set, or something. He’d kind of tuned the announcer out. “Hey, how long have you known Silver?”

“Humm . . That’s a question,” Crystal tells him. 

“We’ve all three been in the same circle for so long,” Gold adds. “But maybe . .” He turns to Crystal. “Was it when we met Red?”

She nods a couple times. “Yeah, I think so. Because he knew Blue.”

“Red?” Ruby echoes. They both turn to face him, knowing looks on their faces.

“Red Yamaguchi,” Gold tells him, his face  _ glowing _ now. “As in, Japan’s national baseball team’s pitcher. Arguably the greatest pitcher in the world.”

“Yeah right,” Crys scoffs. “Who would argue against it?”

“You know a person like that?”

“Mhm.” Crystal nods. “He’s a neat guy. He’s actually playing for Japan in Yokohama this next week.”

“And we are  _ so _ going,” Gold chimes in. “Fuck Green’s matches, we’re going around yours.”

“Yeah, fine by me.” She turns back to Ruby. “So, Red is longtime friends with Blue, Silver’s coach. She’s from Japan, that’s how they know each other. And we met Silver through Blue, thus through Red.”

“And he’s the  _ coolest _ person I mean-not Silver of course, but Red-!” Gold stops himself, shaking his head. “Well, I could gush all day, but it looks like they’re ready.”

 

-

The fifth match is called. He’s on standby for a minute, taking random swigs from a water bottle. He adjusts his gloves, his visor. He stretches out his arms. 

And then they’re ready, and he’s up.

Silver earns a ten. So does the Taiwanese archer.

His teeth are gritted as he steps back up, and he has to force himself to relax before even lifting his bow. He positions himself, lines up the shot, takes another breath before steadying his form.

“Nine!”

It’s on the line, he thinks, as he looks up to the screen. A glance back to Blue confirms it. He steps back as she steps forward, murmuring to him.

“It’s a ten,” Gold nods. 

“So it was a wrong call?” Ruby twists back to look at the score again. 

“The asterisk will pop up eventually,” Crys calls over. “It’s pretty much a ten, though. It’ll be marked for review after the shots are finished.”

“But it’s very much on the line,” Blue tells him, winking. A ten is called out and it’s his turn again. She steps back. “Now, finish this.”

Easier said than done, he thinks, stepping back up.

“What happened to his ten streak?” Ruby questions. “He was doing so well the other day.”

There’s a pause before Gold replies. “The pressure.”

That made enough sense, but Gold continues.

“It isn’t just about winning a medal, for Silver. Not anymore. It’s about being first. It’s about overall victory.”

He steps up and looks down at his bow, red and black and purple. Until now, he’d always thought of it as a favored color scheme. 

But maybe he chose it subconsciously. Maybe he styled it after his road to get where he is now.

A shudder courses through his being. He was afraid of how likely that was.

“And when you have that in mind, the pressure is absolutely unbelievable.”

He tries to shrug off the thought and lifts the bow. It takes a couple times to grab an arrow from his quiver, and he frowns down at it. But his hand wasn’t shaking. He was good.

Pulling back the string, he repeated the thought. He was good. Everything was fine.

This was it.

Gold jumps to his feet along with Crystal when Silver’s arrow is called at a third ten. They both let out huge sighs, and it takes a second for them to sink back to their seats.

The archer from Taiwan lines up his shot and releases it. It’s also a ten. Yet, instead of being content with the tie, he starts bobbing his head and turning back, riling himself up.

“He thinks he’s won,” Crys utters, crossing her arms. “Can’t he see the asterisk?”

“Calm down,” Gold shushes her. “Look, it’s not a bad thing. He-See, he sees it now.” Silver’s second shot is recalled as a ten, tying the set and, overall, the match. “And now he has to settle down again.”

“Quick rundown,” Crys pipes up to Ruby, and he leans forward. “Since you’re new to this and all. It’s a one arrow shootout. Closest to the center wins.”

“Sounds . . intense.”

“Either way, it ends soon.” Gold stands and, after hesitating just a brief moment, cups his hands around his mouth. “Hang in there, Silv,” he calls down. “You’ve got this.”

It’s not the ear-splitting he was greeted to the other day, but Ruby’s not surprised to see it still captures the attention of the Italian archer. He whips his head back to eye the stands, and then lands on Gold. After a few moments of staring, he nods, then turns back to Blue.

“I can’t believe there were three tie sets,” Crystal says. “That’s the first I’ve seen of it.”

“You don’t get out much,” Gold shrugs. She eyes him dangerously. “But, you’re right. I haven’t ever heard anything of it. Not like it matters though. The end is the same.” He gestures toward the field. “This.”

 

-

Silver has worked so hard, and endured so much, to be here.

That thought swirls in his mind. It’s not until he hears Gold calling out to him that he settles it. 

They’ve cleared the arrows. 

He’s going first. No regrets, and nothing to focus on but doing his very best. 

He’d shoot this, and then it would be out of his hands. He’d either be outperformed, or he’d succeed.

He turns his head, catches where Gold and Crystal are seated. 

Yeah, that made him feel a bit better.

“You’ve got this,” Blue tells him. There are no arrows in his quiver. There is one loaded in his bow.

“Thanks.”

He turns to step up. There’s no longer any room for doubt, or for extra thoughts.

So why does he feel like he’s drowning, out in the bay not even a kilometer to his right? 

When he was younger, and going up in practice matches, he used to imagine wind that wasn’t there. Recalculating a shot from phantom wind didn’t help anyone. It just meant you were digging a hole for yourself.

He’d gotten past that eons ago, though. So why . . ?

Why does he feel so sick, as he situates himself in the sanctioned space. 

As he lifts his bow.

As he places the taut string against his lips.

As he releases, and the bow recurves up to his neck.

“Ten!”

It’s in the inner circle. Silver steps back.

He glances to his foe, and then looks up to the monitor, to the close-up of the target in comparison with his.

The woosh of air signals the release, and the  _ ping _ as the arrow lands implies the end of its flight.

Silver feels the breath leave him, entirely.

The arrow is touching the plus sign in the center.

“Ten!”

Closer.

 

-

Immediately, Gold thrusts his and into Ruby’s, claims he needs something to hold.

Ruby thinks the other might cry, but the fact that he’s  _ holding hands _ with someone he’d kissed last night was the leading thought in his mind.

He sits there, still stunned. Doesn’t say much as they set up podiums, doesn’t hear the others until after the archer from Taiwan is awarded the gold. Silver is on the next platform down, eyeing the medal around his neck with a curt expression.

It isn’t until after all the applause that Gold nudges him to stand, and tells him to follow he and Crystal. Not like he has much choice, his hand is still captive to a death grip. He’s practically dragged from the bleachers to the side of the field, and then ducked under a doorway to lead inside the building that connected all the archery fields.

And then he sees why.

 

-

Gold doesn’t know what happens next, and that scares him.

But, he knows where he needs to be.

They’re all three walking when he spies Blue at the end of the hall. It’s not very bright, really the only light coming from open tent flaps further down.

He feels the breath leave him when he sees Silver pressed up against her, composure completely lost as he sobs where the public can’t see.

Blue looks up, and that gets his attention. He lifts his head as well, sees Gold and Crystal as they draw nearer. He chokes on another cry, releases his coach. 

It’s all Gold needs. He lets go of Ruby’s hand and suddenly he’s right in front of Silver, in front of his  _ best friend _ as he loops his arms around Gold in a death grip, and then releases one in favor of tugging it around Crystal’s neck, and buries his face into Gold’s chest.

His cries get louder. The silver medal is still around his neck.

Gold’s trying to be strong, but his mouth is quivering as well. And then, Silver speaks.

“I-I wanted to  _ win _ !”

As he dissolves completely into frustrated tears, Gold moves to wrap an arm around his form, and Crystal follows with both. With his free hand, Gold rests it on the redhead’s hair, running it up and down.

His eyes are no longer dry.

“I know,” he whispers, taking his all to keep the words steady. “I know.”

 

-

“I’m leaving, tomorrow.”

Gold stops in his walk, swings his head over his shoulder to eye the younger athlete. “Leaving? Why?”

“Uh.” He rubs at his neck. “For Greece, for interviews. I mean, I’ll be back in a couple days.”

“Oh.” Gold nods. “Good. I’m not done with you yet.”

Ruby lets his hand be snagged, lets himself be pulled forward. He’d grown used to it. At this point, he didn’t mind.

 

-

It’s the last day of competition at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics.

Ruby has witnessed some amazing feats. Red Yamaguchi helped Japan sweep the baseball event. Crystal effortlessly won a pair of gold medals. The “Green” he’d heard about also came away with a medal in judo. And just like him, there were multiple instances of young people pulling all the stops to earn gold in their events.

And now it’s the last day. The cycling day.

Gold had taken the time the day before to explain exactly the event he was in, and a bit of how it worked. It was the road race, snaking from the bay to somewhere in the foothills of Mt. Fuji, and then back halfway. It would take somewhere between six and seven hours. 

He was with Crystal and Silver again, at the takeoff mark. Gold was twelfth, which meant they had a few minutes before he was up.

It was overcast that day, but no one had mentioned a thing about rain, so Ruby took it that it’d be shifting away from the bay. Hopefully not in the direction of the track, but . . 

He bites down on his lip, recalling the conversation from earlier that day.

_ “Aww, you worried?” _

_ “Well-sure!” Ruby huffs. “Don’t people crash in these things? Aren’t bikes metal?” _

_ “Carbon fiber, actually.” _

_ “The road will be dangerous in the rain, right?” _

_ Gold sets his hands on the younger’s shoulders, easing his grin into a small smile. “Ruby. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.” He winks. “Nice of you to worry, though.” _

He lets out a frustrated huff, slumping forward on the rails. Beside him, Crystal muffles a snort.

“Two minutes.”

“It’s not that,” he replies.

“The rain thing?” Silver asks. At his affirmative, the redhead looks up to the sky. “I don’t think it’ll fall.”

“Not here,” he mutters.

“If it moves anywhere, it’ll be east.” He nudges the diver. “Quit worrying.”

Easier said than done. When Gold’s up on the ramp, though, there’s not much more he can concentrate on.

Especially the . .

“Wow,” Ruby says. Beside him, Silver groans and buries his face in his hands. “That’s uh, very red.”

“Fucking eyesore.” Crystal rolls her eyes. “Haven’t seen that one in a long time. You know what it’s from right?” She leans over the railing, eyeing Silver on the other side of Ruby.

“Yes!” He wails, still refusing to look towards the cyclist. “God, why-? Why does he even still have? That?”

Oh. The bike was red because of Silver’s hair.

The redhead groans again. “Ruby! I thought I could count on you!”

He’d said that aloud. Shit. 

Crys has dissolved into laughter, only calming to gesture towards Gold, and all three reluctantly look to see a hand to the side of his face counting down. 

The hand closes one finger to form a fist and Gold shoots off.

Ruby lets his eyes follow, the cyclist almost a speck before Crys is tapping his shoulder.

“Okay! Let’s go.”

“Go?”

“You have money, right?” Silver asks. Ruby nods and he flicks his head toward the edge of the crowd. “Perfect. We’re catching a tram to the finish line. Should take about an hour.”

“Don’t worry!” Crys whips out her phone, a livestream of the road race already pulled up. “All the trolleys going between events should have video feeds in them. If they’re not showing it, we have these.”

Silver breaks free, begins to wiggle around the crowd. “Come on! Let’s go.”

 

-

He hates to admit it, but the ride over to the finish line was probably the most fun he’d had in Tokyo since he’d arrived, second only to the baseball match in Yokohama, and entirely -disappointingly- discluding his own competition.

There were ups and downs to watching the feed, but overall, it was a six hour competition. They had fun with it, but upon reaching the location, decided to go and explore the area a bit.

After lunch and a stop at a dessert shop for dango, all three make their way back to the finish line and pick out a good spot, seating themselves comfortably on the ground. Ruby leans over Crys’ shoulder to watch her phone, her service working much better in Japan than his was. 

“I’m really glad he met you,” Silver suddenly says. Both of them look up to see he’s looking to Ruby. “It’s been fun, having you around. I’d love to keep in touch after all this.”

“Oh!” Crystal nods. “Me too! You should give me your number-actually, not now, we’re using . . Let me give you my number!”

So Ruby hands his phone over, both of them type in their numbers, and he’s left with an indescribable feeling.

“I’ve never had friends from overseas before.”

Crystal smiles, while Silver scoffs, mockingly. 

“Welcome to the club, then.”

 

-

The frontrunner from Kazakhstan is keeping pace around the last few kilometers.

He’s watching from the overhead screens at the finish, and occasionally turns to glance down at Crystal’s phone, where a different feed shows another angle.

Gold glances back and swerves across the road as a no-entry zone comes up, filling with camera crews and their vehicles shortly after. He’s two and a half kilometers away. It’s time.

“No,” Silver breathes next to him. Ruby glances at him, but he’s shaking his head. “He’s really gonna do it.”

“First time for everything~” Crys sings.

And then Ruby just. Watches. That’s all he can do.

Gold eases up on the pedaling and the cyclist behind shoots past. He takes a moment to steady his upper body. Then, as another competitor shoots past, he grips the bike seat between his thighs and and buffers himself until he’s lying completely on his bike, chin even with his hands that are gripped around the handlebars.

The last hill has just passed, and it’s all a slope from here.

Ruby’s jaw drops as he sees this happening, and he can’t do anything as Gold gains traction very quickly, nothing holding him back and almost no effort expended.

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yea.” Silver shrugs, beside him. “But it’s a straight shot to finish. Besides, you gotta do what you gotta do to win.”

Ruby turns to see Crys videoing one of the screens above them, as Gold overtakes the Kazakhstan rider. Once he’s close enough, she points the camera towards him.

“That’s . .” Amazing. Absolutely unbelievable. Ruby can’t find the effort to voice his thoughts, though.

Leading by a whopping seven seconds, Gold quickly props himself back up and crosses the finish line upright, careening to the side to come to a stop a few meters inside. He unstraps his helmet and descends from the bike, placing it there before moving around in a show of arms, hands waving wildly as he celebrates.

Ruby has a hand pressed to his mouth, eyes still blown wide. Gold spots him then, on the edge, and drops his arms. He turns to say something to someone in Mexican colors, then spins on his heels and heads over to the railing parting the crowd.

Ruby’s trying to form words to congratulate him when suddenly Gold is leaning over the railing, and grabbing for the sides of his face, and then-!

He immediately reaches out and latches onto the cyclist’s shoulders, fearing he’d lose his balance otherwise and drop to the pavement. A moment later and Gold pulls back, the sharp grin back on his face. 

“Sorry, was that okay?”

Ruby knows his face is red. He can’t bother denying it. “Y-Yea,” he chokes out. “That was fine.” he’s still holding onto the other’s shoulders, and reluctantly, he releases them. Not that it mattered much. Gold still held his face in a deathgrip.

“I got excited, sorry.” Finally, he steps back. 

“I got it on camera.”

They both turn to stare at Silver, who’s holding up his phone. While Ruby blanches, Gold makes a grab for the device. But he’s a bit slow.

“Hey hey, at least I didn’t video it like Crys,” Silver tells them, and Ruby glances over to see her  _ still _ filming it, only stopping when she’s caught and quickly stepping back to avoid Gold. 

“You two are the  _ worst _ ,” Gold snaps, but he’s still smiling, still basking in the wake of it all.

Ruby can’t help but be infected by it.

 

-

It’s dark, night, but a different dark than he’s used to.

There are floodlights everywhere, lighting up the area in patches. Most of the area is dim, with small fairy lights and glow sticks and other more mechanical sparklers decorating the blank space.

And the music. It’s near deafening, and it’s all the same song, no matter how far he treks. It’s almost hard to believe, how one sound projects to the entirety of the arena. The live performances had stopped long ago, and now radio-style popular songs blasted out across the stadium. One at a time. It ends and a new one comes on. There’s never any overlap, never any but a single song playing at a given time.

The atmosphere is unbelievable. Ruby thought he’d run into just about everyone now, separating from his country long after parading around. It was a frenzy, but a more controlled one. Everyone was in clusters, and after the rush of finding fellow competitors and other straggling athletes you’d met along the way, everyone was . . dancing.

It was hard not to have a smile on your face. Ruby had been bouncing around the entire time, and now was no different. The air was charged with a song he’d heard in passing being by a  _ Reol _ , and as he spun around, he could  _ feel _ it.

The energy was uncontainable. There were surges of movement, but he was in his own world, glancing down every so often to look at the gold medal.  _ His _ gold medal.

The song comes to a close and he lets his form relax, just sway, enough for him to feel the tap on his shoulder.

When he turns to see who it was, he’s not exactly surprised to see Gold there.

And when the millions of speakers begin to pump out the beats to the next song, he’s still not surprised when Gold offers his hand.

It’s not a bad thing, he thinks, to share these moments with another. He’d been moving to his own rhythm, but to have a partner was nice. They loop around, and laugh a bunch, and attempt the most insane stunts. But it’s fun. He’s having so much fun, here, now. 

“You’ll keep in touch, right?”

There’s a lull in the music, and he leans in close to speak. Still, it takes a moment for Ruby to ponder, to think up a reply.

“I’ll be back in Japan in March, for worlds,” he tells him, waits for the recognition to light in his eyes.

Gold nods, trademark grin filling up his face. “Well. It turns out I’m coming to watch my good friend Red play in Japan. In March.”

A new song comes on, a  _ big one _ , if the roaring of everyone around them is enough to tell. Ruby recognizes it, and this time, he’s the one slipping Gold’s hards into his own, spinning them around. Ruby makes a mental note to check on train ticket prices from out of Fukuoka. 

And when the night ends, the promise still stands. Half a year. 

They could do that.

 

-

The hairtie that had been around his wrist is now gone. It was fine, he still had one holding his hair in place, but it had also been a presence, and to have it gone because someone had  _ snapped _ theirs on an unsanctioned whirlwind of a dive pissed him off.

Also because said person’s hair barely fit into the band. Yeah, it was a necessity. Should he have brought an extra one? Of course. Did he?

No, so Ruby’s had been stolen. 

What’s more, apparently he’d changed another dive on the sheet without consulting him. So he was left in his stupid chair, back near the stands so Gold could lean down and scream over his shoulder, wondering what the fuck else was gonna be a surprise that day.

He crosses his arms and watches the figure ascend to the main platform. It was bright, being an outdoor stadium and all. And at the kid’s first olympics, too. Ruby hadn’t been that lucky. 

His phone rings in his jacket and he knows it’s from Gold, probably another picture taken of the current score. An unbelievably high score, because he apparently trained a fucking show-off.

Wallace liked to laugh in his face, now. Remind how just how hard he was to deal with, at times. How tough a time he’d had being Ruby’s coach. He called it karma. Ruby hated him for it.

And at last, the announcer comes to save the day of those just now tuning in.

“From Greece, Luca Wells. 309B.”

He nearly dies.

Instead, Ruby jumps from his chair, doesn’t even bother flinching at the noise it makes. “WHAT?”

“Yo!” It’s Gold, and he spares a glance up, eyes still narrowed. “Is that big or what?”

A genuine question. He was still learning. Still, Ruby wasn’t done being mad. “Yeah, it’s big. It’s four-point-eight, it’s worth over a hundred and forty points.”

“Wow.” Gold smirks, leans onto the railing, lets an arm dangle from it. 

“Not wow,” Ruby spits. “Did you teach him that? I didn’t teach him that.”

Over the past year, the words became numb to Gold due to excessive repeat. He does what he always does: laugh, and then say, “Well, he’s gotta feel like he can do it, if he’s doing it.” He winks down, and it infuriated Ruby even more because of course he’s  _ right _ . “He’s the starboy, after all.”

The whistle is ultimately what calms Ruby down. He turns back to watch as Luca leaps off the platform and into the reverse four-and-a-half. 

Had it been a tuck dive, he would’ve believed it. It would still be a 4.5 degree of difficulty, which had become the norm for the diver in the past year. But because he was a showoff like his father, it was piked, spiking the difficulty up three whole decimal points.

The media had termed the coin ‘starboy’ before the olympics, and it had caught on quickly. The Starboy, the boy who aims for the stars. The current record holder for an insane number of dives. The current trendsetter for the never-attempted and obscenely-difficult dives. Ruby hadn’t seen the reserve four-and-a-half performed off a ten metre platform  _ ever _ . It had been done before, of course, in cliff diving. But those started at a base of sixty meters, where you had more than enough time to do insane dives and straighten out for a feet-first landing. 

When Luca had performed a five somersault forward in practice, the resulting video went viral instantaneously. Ruby had forbade him to do it in competition, but it didn’t matter. There still weren’t any dives for the 10 metre with five full rotations listed on the FINA-sanctioned dive list. 

He had a feeling there would be eventually, though. 

The Starboy enters smoothly, only a small  _ pop _ of the water leaving any trace he’d dove in. Around Ruby, people went nuts. Crazy. Wild.

It was, after all, the highest-scoring 10M dive that had just been performed.

He’s there when Luca picks himself out of the water, and he sighs as the boy takes time to pop his locks out of the hairtie. It had been his last dive of the day. There was no reason to keep it up.

He turns to Ruby and offers him the tie, a smile already forming. “How was that?”

Instead of answering, Ruby pulls the tie back onto his wrist and asks his own question. “It’s only the semis. What are you planning for the finals, now?”

“Ah.” Luca shrugs. The board lights up his eyes, and Ruby waits for his reply before turning to see the score. “Do it again?”

It’s scored just under 143 points. Ruby sighs, lets it drain away all his emotions, all his efforts to be mad. When he looks back over at Luca, he’s smiling. 

“Yeah. Do it again.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it to the end!! I super appreciate it.
> 
> I did make up research notes for this fic, for easier navigating. You can find them [here](http://cheswirl.tumblr.com/post/171877795067/notes-on-fly-and-fall). 
> 
> I also have a tumblr [here](http://cheswirl.tumblr.com) and wr commissions open, with info [here](http://cheswirl.tumblr.com/wrcommissions).


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